


Under Your Spell

by JugheadsEnigma



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, But we diving right in with some shit here, Dark Jughead Jones, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Kinda, Multi, Parents mentioned, Riverdale AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers, Vampire Jughead, bughead - Freeform, bughead au, by that i mean theres some absence of real established shit until later, it gets kinky dont come for me, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JugheadsEnigma/pseuds/JugheadsEnigma
Summary: "She was like a breath of air after years of suffocation. She was an ethereal rift in his tenebrous daydream. Jughead had never seen her before, but she was it. If he were to ever make a choice, there could be no worse missed opportunity. He wanted her to hate him, to love him. He wanted to stare into her eyes and watch them glisten in the dimly lit night. She was close enough to take but far enough to be stolen away. Her skin was but a delicate rose petal. It was begging to be torn."--Betty Cooper is a twenty two year old College student in New York city. Living with her best friend Veronica, they enjoy their third year of studies and parties until a tragedy strikes the Cooper family, driving Betty home. Upon returning, it appears that she has changed. Stricken by nightmares and unable to push herself to attend classes, she spends her days pulling shifts at her loathed job as a barista.When pushed to spend a night out with friends that ends up being less fun than she hoped, Betty escapes early and ventures out alone. Winding up in the far side of town in a worn out bar, she meets a charming man with a strange name whom might be a lot more dangerous than he seems.





	Under Your Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Jughead Jones has been alive for much longer than he looks to be. Sort of. 
> 
> Vampire AU i've been writing in my head for fucking months but never put it on paper. WELL NOW I FINALLY AM.  
> Marked for graphic depictions because obviously there will be blood. This aint your usual twilight bs, expect some dark shit.  
> (No offense to those who enjoy twilight, enjoy what you enjoy <3) 
> 
> I hope you guys like the first chapter, or as I like to call it, the build up.  
> Comment and let me know what you think! I'd like to know peoples thoughts before continuing.  
> If you'd like to join the beta team, send me a message on my tumblr with the same name, i'd love to have you!

_She was like a breath of air after years of suffocation. She was an ethereal rift in his tenebrous daydream_. Jughead had never seen her before, but she was it. If he were to ever make a choice, there could be no worse missed opportunity. He wanted her to hate him, to  _love_  him. He wanted to stare into her eyes and watch them glisten in the dimly lit night. She was close enough to take but far enough to be stolen away.  _Her_ _skin_ _was_ _but a delicate rose petal_.  _It was_   _begging to be torn_.

They were in a worn down 'hole in the wall'. The music was bad prerecorded remixes off the owners' daughters iphone, half decently packed with people too drunk to care. The only lights were cheap LED's, old televisions playing sports games you couldn’t hear and soft bulbs lining above the L-shaped bar. 

He was always here. She wasn’t. 

It was barely midnight. The bartenders were drinking; the bar stools were sticky, yet they sat in them anyway. She was so unbelievably  _far_. Sitting six seats away, just to the edge of the lengthy counter. He was at the very end, and through the two drunk girls speaking loudly at each other and the 3 men buying their first few shots, he watched. He watched as she sipped her rum n' coke, pinching the straw between her fingers and stirring the melting ice around the glass. 

She's been alone since she walked through the door, her blonde waves drooped over her shoulders. 

His brow was furrowed, blue eyes scanned over the pink leather hugging her hunched form. There wasn’t much in this part of the city besides run down bars and old buildings, the beautiful lights of New York a far-off gaze. Of all the places there were to drink, she was  _here_. This was her fourth and judging by the apathetic look on her face, the way she relaxed her elbows on the cracking fake marble, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

Should he approach? How...? He hardly looked approachable. His beanie was gone from his head, stuffed away in his old, shearling coat pocket. He must fit right in with this place, Old combat boots, faded jeans, an 'S' shirt with one too many holes along the bottom seam. 

 _She_ wasn't  _the type_ to be here. 

He hasn’t had anything to drink since arriving two hours ago, sitting in silence and alone in the same spot he does almost nightly. The bartenders didn't even bother to ask him if he wanted anything anymore and if they cared enough, they might've accused him of being a homeless man loitering. The only people who spoke to him were the regulars in their forties, coming in to get escape their wives, their jobs, their lives... Jughead would usually respond with a nod, a fake smile or a "You too", pretending to not smell the staleness of beer seeped in their clothes.

 _Why was she alone?_  

He could feel his chest tighten as he took a deep breath in, eyes locked onto her as he slipped from his seat. If he didn’t get his shit together and come up with some reason to go over there, she was going to slip away.  

Quickly glancing around the bar, he had caught the  _all-too-young_  looking server with a tray of jello shots by the arm just as she stepped out onto the floor. The brunette looked up at him, stunned and tense. She couldn't be much older than eighteen, most likely one of the bartender's friends in a tight spot... Not too proud of himself, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, the flash of anger in her eyes ceased by the twenty he was slipping into the front pocket of her top. Attitudes tended to change when money was involved, especially with the young and naive. Leaning down to her ear and muttering lies about the college boys at the bar, he felt her lean into him as he traced the tip of his finger down the side of her arm. It was enough. She strutted over like she had practiced the walk and he watched as they smiled when she spoke. A turn and they were following at her heals to an old booth to receive their various choices of badly made snacks. 

His eyes flickered back to his target with a heavy sigh and made his way in to the now completely isolated beauty, casually planting himself in the stool beside her.

"Two more." 

The blondes head jerked up, startled as she watched two fingers raise and gesture to her near empty glass in one swift motion. She finally felt the effects of the alcohol as she stared up at the stranger, squinting in both confusion and haze. 

"Oh,  _no_..." The straw fell from her fingers and swiveled around the glass rim when she weakly gestured him to stop. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, watching the bartender hose their drinks into their water stained glasses and place them in front of them. The cash was exchanged and the tender waved away with the change. 

Betty was bewildered. Rarely was she ever faced with situations like this, if ever. They were maybe imagined, a simple  _'what-if'_  scenario where she would assert herself as an independent woman and give a firm rejection; a theory that her best friend would heroically pull her away to dance and she could forget the encounter ever happened. In  _not one_  of these thoughts did she stare, silent and gaping, unable to sort her thoughts into a sentence that sounded tough, let alone resentful. 

He was looking back at her now and in the dim light, she could see the slightest twitch in the corners of his lips. His features were youthful and soft, yet his bright blue eyes were surrounded by dark circles and faint lines crossed his forehead. She wondered if it was due to age or consistent frustration.

"Your glass looked like it was running low..." His gaze fell to the drink in front of her, watered down by its melted ice and truthfully at its last flat sip. 

Betty slowly slid the drink off to the side, not taking her eyes off of the man that had interrupted her thoughts. Her lips finally shut as she turned slightly on her stool to face him, resting her hand in her lap in attempt to hide her tension. "I didn't realize that was an  _invitation_." She tried. It hadn't come out as strong as she hoped but it was certainly a start. 

His body faced the bar, brow quirked at her words as he lifted a glass and took a long sip through the plastic straw, gaze flickering away to the pool tables a short distance behind her before meeting hers again. He'd come this far and wasn't about to budge. 

She could leave right now. She could step outside and call Veronica to come take her home without another word. There was nothing stopping her escape. He wasn’t crowding her and he didn't seem  _all too threatening_ , if not strangely disinterested for someone who just bought her another drink. It had definitely been new to her. Hell, this whole experience was new... Perhaps that was why she didn't feel the need to leave so urgently, or simply curiosity. 

Or maybe this is why she wound up here in the first place. Maybe this is what she was looking for, what she  _wanted_. Taking a cab to an isolated bar she found on google maps certainly wasn’t something she usually did on impulse, especially alone, but there she was. 

"I  _could leave_." He stated with a light smile, pulling the straw from his lips and holding the cold glass in his hand. His brow was furrowed in question, tip of his tongue darting out to quickly run between his lips. 

Jughead hated alcohol, especially here. The knock-off Captain Morgan felt like a sickness on his tongue, but a bottle of 'Admiral Nelson' was worth it if it meant he'd get a taste of her. 

Betty took in a slow breath as she looked down at the full drink next to the wet ring his had left. She wasn’t tipsy enough to be helpless, usually able to down a good seven red party cups before she could even be considerably drunk. Her eyes haven't left him, so he definitely didn't slip her anything without her noticing. 

Her night prior to this- fuck, the last month- had been hell. She spent the last hour spending all her tips, trying to drown away the sickening nausea that was sitting at the bottom of her throat. Most days she could hardly bring herself to adorn her high-ponytail, let alone brush her hair. This stranger was cute; refreshingly different. Sizing him up, she could probably take him if she had to. The bar was too small for anything to go unnoticed. 

Her fingertips ran along the rim of the glass before she gripped it, sliding it closer to herself as she crossed her legs in a more confident posture. 

She gave him a polite, lopsided smile. "What's your name?"

His grew as he turned towards her. "Jughead." 

 _"Interesting."_ She quipped, letting a gentle laugh escape her as she wrapped her lips around her plastic straw. 

 _Jughead_ shared her amusement with an eyeroll, nodding as he bit the inside of his lip in playful irritation. "Yeah, I get it." 

There was no way that was his real name. Betty had known people with ridiculous nicknames back in high school but none that were carried into adulthood. She raised her brows skeptically, her tongue running along the corner of her lips as she waited for an appropriate answer.

 Narrowed eyes scanned over her face before finally caving with a light chuckle. "I've gone by it my entire life. Trust me when I say 'it's better than the original'?" 

And it was. God, he hated the name Forsythe. It was dated and had a little overly ironic meaning. After many years, he had grown to enjoy the nickname 'Jughead'. It was strange but it was his. It was something to remember, something that wouldn’t fade.

Leaning her elbow against the bar, Betty was nibbling gently on her grinning bottom lip, staring up at him under lashes. He wanted to bite it until he drew blood, to lick it as droplets dribble down her chin.

"Okay." She nods, releasing her lip to take another slow sip of her drink before setting it down at her side. "I'm Betty. It's nice to meet you,  _Jugh_ _ead_." 

______ ______ _____

_Nine A.M, Early_ _this_ _morning._

_Betty sat in front of her old, white makeup desk_ _beside her_ _bed_ _,_ _deep purple_ _towel_ _wrapped tightly around her torso._ _It_ _was the only piece_ _of_ _furniture_ _she had taken with her when moving to New York with Veronica for College._

_She combs_ _her fingertips through_ _her damp_ _hair, and_ _draws her gaze, trying to focus on anything but the rings around her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping right, waking up every hour in discomfort with eyes wide open. She only felt tired when her alarm blared from her phone an hour ago. It had been like this for weeks; she doesn't think it'll stop any time soon._

_She had to get ready for work, to waste away hours serving irritated customers whilst her supervisor barked away orders over the sound of the steaming_ _milk_ _, loud blenders_ _and_ _grinding coffee beans_ _._

_She hated it and only felt worse thinking of what today might be like, if it would be as bad as yesterday, if she'd be working with her creepy coworker who was definitely much older than she was; always leering at her, always making_ _inappropriate_ _jokes about female customers with larger chests._

_B_ _reathing In deeply, she grabs one of the many hair elastics that scatter the desk top and pulls her hair into a loose ponytail. Her fingers linger as she takes another look at her eyes_ _then drop to pick up_ _her powder foundation_ _, sponging on layers across her bags before_ _blending it in with the rest of her face_ _. It wasn’t perfect_ _but at least no one could tell she hadn't slept from a distance_ _and_ _that w_ _as_ _enough_ _to make her feel a little more presentable_ _. Exchanging the compact for mascara, she applies a layer on her lashes just as she_ _hears_ _her door crack open._

_"V, I'm in a towel." She sighs, dropping the tube back on her desk as she stares a_ _t_ _the head poking in through the mirror._

_"But not naked,_ _so_ _I'm_ _coming in." The brunette grins cautiously, stepping in with the door pushed wide open. With her hand lingering on the doorknob, she tilts her head in question as Betty refuses to meet the smile, but she_ _knows..._

_"Betty, y_ _ou don't have to go." Veronica makes her way further into the room, slow, and settles_ _on the edge of her_ _friend's_ _bed_ _, as close as she could be_ _._ _She was fully dressed in a black blouse and deep_ _purple skirt, ready for the day_ _. Usually it was Betty who had beat her to the punch when it came to being bright and early, but that had stopped, as did many other things_ _._

_"Call in sick and we'll go out and shop, or we could just watch Netflix and make popcorn_ _-_ _"_

_"I_ can't  _keep_   _calling in_  sick _, Veronica." Betty cuts her_ _off with edge to her_ _words, sparing the girl an irritated glance before tearing away. "_ _It’s_ _a job."_

_Sighing deeply_ _,_ _Veronica's_ _smile_ _had fallen. She felt desperate_ _, every day, pushing for the other to give in_ _._ _"You can quit if that’s what you want. Take a break and spend some time just working on_ _you_ _..._ _" Her words trail_ _off when she notices the blonde's fingers folded into tight fists._

_With a tight_ _throat_ _Betty_ _watched two_ _wet_ _tears fall on the tops of her hands_ _,_ _hanging_ _her head. Staring at h_ _er_ _fists_ _in_ _her lap_ _, her lips parted to take in a sharp breath. She was desperate not to start crying, not again_ _. It felt like it was a daily_ _occurrence_ _,_ _overwhelmed by such small things. It was as if someone had turned the taps_ _on every_ _time something wasn't working out the way she wanted it to, if_ _someone_ _so much as asked if she was 'Okay'._ _I_ _t made her feel so_ weak _._ _She was sure her freshly applied mascara was smearing across her lower lids with every blink._

_"B..." Veronica made no move, unsure of how the blonde would react to any rushed action. She sighed, her tone softening just above a whisper. "Please don’t. If not for me then for yourself? I know you hate relying on people_ _but it's only until you're ready."_

_With another deep inhale, the young Cooper lifts her head to finally meet Veronica's eyes, uncurling her fingers with a_ _small, trying smile. She needed help, needed to try._ _"… If you promise to help me write my notice. And come with me?"_

_With a relieved laugh, Veronica reached out and grasped Betty's bloody_ _hand, nodding reassuringly as she gave it a squeeze._


End file.
